Colourful Memories
by uncontained hybrid
Summary: Dennis and his mother use Colin's love of photography and the pictures he left behind, to help them get over their grief.


Dennis fought his way through the hordes of people, pushing them aside, desperately trying to find Colin.

"Dennis!" someone called from behind him. Dennis whipped around, peering over the many heads, hoping whoever was calling his name knew where Colin was. "Dennis!" the person shouted again, and a hand grabbed his wrist. Instictively, Dennis reached for his wand. "Calm down, yeah?" Neville Longbottom said to him, and began to lead him away. "Neville? Have you seen Colin?" Dennis asked feverishly. Neville's lips pursed together for a minute, and he drew a quick breath. "Follow me," Neville mumbled.

Neville led him between lines of stretchers, full of the dead and dying, to where Colin's body lay. "De-" Neville started, but Dennis had already thrown himself onto Colin's body, shaking it in desperation. "Colin!" Dennis was screaming, sounding as if the words were being torn out of his throat.

Neville grabbed Dennis from Colin's lifeless body, and pulled him out of the Great Hall, the doors swinging shut behind them.

* * *

Dennis stood on the train platform, waiting for the train to arrive so he could get back to his parents, to explain what had happened. McGonagall had already told him that she had changed the wards to allow the grieving Muggle parents into the castle. The train pulled into the station, and Dennis stepped on, grateful to easily find a seat. In the past, Dennis had talked with friends or slept through most of the long train journey from Scotland to England. Now, he had no friends to accompany him, and he was too afraid to sleep, lest he be publicly awoken by his nightmares and experiences on the run.

Dennis stared out the window, watching his surroundings blur together as the train sped towards his hometown. He was lost in his thoughts, wondering how to tell his parents about Colin's death.

Several hours later, Dennis arrived at his hometown of Ealing. He lumbered along the way to his parents' house, hands in his trouser pockets, wishing desperately that he didn't have to break the news to his parents.

He reached his house, and knocked on the door. He waited only a few moments before his father, Keith, opened the door.

"Dennis!" Keith exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I just wanted to see you, I guess. Is Mum home?"

"No, she's not. She's at the library, helping out with something."

"Oh, okay. Do you know when she'll be home?"

"Not long. An hour or so, probably. Come in, Dennis, I haven't seen you since you left for school in September. Shouldn't you be in school now?"

Dennis felt the words catch in his throat, and suddenly felt faint. "I'll explain once Mum's home," he did his best to deflect his father's question.

"Alright," Keith responded, somewhat quizzical.

Dennis sat down on the couch, tapping his foot nervously. "So, how have you been?" he asked in an attempt to dispel the awkward silence.

"We've been alright. It's a bit harder to make money as a milkman these days, so I've started doing a paper round."

"Is the paper round okay for you?"

"Well, it took a bit of getting used to. You know your mum, she was the one forcing me to get out of bed at some ridiculous hour," Keith laughed.

Dennis echoed his father's laugh, albeit uneasily.

Dennis continued to do his best to make conversation with his father, while the two waited for Dennis' mother, Sandra, to come home.

Dennis straightened up when he heard the sound of Sandra's keys in the front door. At least he could come clean now.

Sandra walked into the living room, her tiredness evident on her face. She brightened as soon as she saw Dennis, however. "Dennis!" she grinned. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to tell you two something," Dennis replied, keeping a straight face.

Sandra instantly grew concerned. "Is everything okay at school? Why haven't you come home for the holidays, you and Colin?"

"Mum, Dad. I have to explain a lot of things to you. I'll tell you about Colin, I promise."

Slowly, taking care with each word he said, Dennis began to recount his and Colin's whereabouts of the past year, and their experiences on the run. By some superhuman strength, he managed not to cry until he tried to tell his parents that Colin was dead.

His voice shaking, he did his best to continue. "Th-there was a battle at Hogwarts. Colin – we weren't supposed to fight, but we did – and Colin, well, he didn't make it."

"What?" Sandra's voice cut Dennis like he was being whipped. "He can't be dead. He was so young, he was only sixteen, it's not fair," she whined, sounding like a small child.

Her husband, on the other hand, seemed to have a very different reaction to the news of his son's death. "I knew this would happen," he raged. "Didn't I tell you Sandra, that we shouldn't send our boys to God knows where, that we couldn't afford it, that nothing good could come of it?"

"Keith," she whispered through her tears, laying her hand on his arm. "Don't say things like that, please," she begged.

Dennis took a deep breath. "What are you going to do? For the funeral arrangements?"

"Dennis, please. I've barely had time to process his death. I can't right now."

Dennis pressed his lips together. "Sorry, Mum." He kissed her cheek, and went up to his bedroom where he did his best to fall asleep.

* * *

Several days later, Dennis' parents still didn't seem to want to talk about funeral arrangements. Dennis couldn't wait any longer to get his brother's funeral over and done with, so he travelled back up to Scotland and arranged for his brother to be buried in the memorial cemetery at Hogwarts.

Dennis left the Hogwarts grounds, glad that he had finally seen to his brother's resting place. He looked back at the castle one last time, vowing he would never return. He hurried off, heading towards his and Colin's safe house of the past year.

He summoned everything, collecting it into his trunk, not caring about whether the charms on their shack still held, or whether the Ministry found out that he was performing underage magic – he just wanted the whole experience to be over and done with.

Exhausted, Dennis arrived back at his family home, weighed down by the belongings he was carrying and the emotional weeks he'd just been through.

He entered the house, tiptoeing, as if any concrete step might cause him to fall through the wooden flooring.

"Dennis!" Sandra seemed to be more calm that Dennis had seen her in months, as she stepped forward to hug her youngest – and now her only living – son. "Are you okay?"

Dennis shrugged. "I've brought you some of Colin's things, the ones that I could find."

Sandra nodded slowly, eyes on Dennis' trunk. "Would you mind looking through his things with me?"

Dennis hesitated. "Uh, I guess."

The two sat down on the couch, and Dennis opened the trunk, letting pictures and albums spill out of it. Sandra bent down, and picked up some photographs, which were tied together with a ribbon.

"I'll never get over these," she said, awed. "Moving photographs! And the quality, Colin was a fine photographer, he was."

Looking over at his mother, with a supremely proud expression on her face, Dennis couldn't help himself. He reached out and hugged his mother tightly, as he hadn't done since he was all of four years old. Sandra put an arm around him, and squeezed his shoulders. "It's okay, yeah?" she murmured, trying to comfort him.

Sandra continued to look through the photographs, stopping at a rather colourful one of Colin and his classmates, laughing as they sat under a tree in the Hogwarts grounds, trying to study.

"A good boy he was, but never a dedicated student," Sandra shook her head. "Stubborn as a mule, when he wanted."

Dennis gave a watery chuckle at his mother's words, than instantly clapped a hand over his mouth, thinking that laughter at this time was wrong.

"Come on, Dennis," Sandra encouraged him. "Colin was stubborn, and you know it. Remember when Great-Auntie Sue died? Laughed hysterically while I was trying to have the relatives over, and he sure knew they thought it was wrong. But not a damn did he give. Laughter is the best medicine, eh?"

Dennis took a shaky breath, and nodded. "Laughter is the best medicine," he agreed, smiling as he looked through more of the photographs.

The colourful memories were comforting, the emotions they held a soothing balm to Dennis' wounded soul, and a remnant of his once-whole family that he'd always treasure.

* * *

_A/N: Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. Beater One, Bellybats. Prompts: 3 (colourful), and 8 (laughter is the best medicine)._


End file.
